In each edition of The Journal, we share recipes that bring flavours and stories together.This time, the journey takes us to Bordeaux and Chablis, where Olivier de Butler and Mathieu Crosnier reflect on the fruits of their labour at La Bonne Mer. They create a dialogue between the briny depth of black mullet, the crisp freshness of R de Rieussec, and the saline tension of William Fèvre’s grands crus.
It is often said that oysters taste of the place they come from. The same is true of wine. In every glass of William Fèvre or Rieussec lies the memory of the soil. William Fèvre draws it from the Kimmeridgian limestone, with its 155-million-year-old marine fossils. Rieussec finds it in the Sauternes mists that nourish the botrytis and shape the wine’s balance.
This memory is what we carried with us to Bordeaux, to a meeting of two people who had never crossed paths before: Olivier de Butler, owner of La Bonne Mer, and Mathieu Crosnier, Estate Director of Rieussec. Two men, two worlds, two passions – and the fruits of their labour converging into one shared desire: to bring sea and vine into conversation through a recipe.
On the terrace of La Bonne Mer, between the scent of fresh ice and pale wooden tables, Olivier speaks about his fish with the same fervour that Mathieu speaks of his vines. The first describes scales, currents, and iodised flesh; the second replies with freshness, tension, balance. Two languages that quickly become one.Olivier shares his favourite: black mullet. Too often overshadowed by sea bass, it wins you over with its density and raw energy. Tasted raw, it asserts a briny frankness that earns it a place among the finest fish of our coasts. ‘For me, it’s one of the very best,’ he says simply.
Mathieu Crosnier offers his perspective: ‘R de Rieussec was designed exactly for this. A dry white wine from Sauternes – without botrytis, yet crafted with the same rigour as our grand cru classé. A wine meant to converse with modern cuisine: raw, vibrant, precise.’ His words reveal an ambition to extend Rieussec’s story beyond sweet wines, opening the door to another expression of its terroir.
From there, the conversation turns into a workshop. How best to slice the mullet so its taut flesh is preserved? Which spice will awaken its saline edge? And above all: which wine to pair it with, so that each enhances the other? The exchange becomes a recipe, a four-handed dialogue where glass and plate brings out the best in one another.
Olivier is frank: ‘When I started, they were already saying the fishmonger’s trade was dying out. Thirty years later, we’re still here.’ Still here, but only thanks to constant adaptation. The fish counter alone was no longer enough; he had to add the restaurant to sustain the business.
His days begin early: night-time deliveries or dawn arrivals, spreading ice across the counter, unloading crates. ‘Some weeks turnover is high, others it drops off. The work is the same.’ The parallel with the vineyard is clear: the same tasks, repeated regardless of yield, with the same uncertainty.
Like winegrowers facing frost or hail, fishmongers contend with shifting quotas, dwindling resources and rising prices. ‘We received a 30-kilo tuna from the Mediterranean this week. It was magnificent, but very expensive. We suggest to our clients that they indulge less often – but better quality.’ As always, rigour prevails.
Waste would be inevitable in this trade, were it not for the kitchen that extends the life of the catch. But nothing here is hidden or disguised: ‘We buy for the fish counter, and we buy for the restaurant – two separate circuits. But if sardines look fragile and don’t sell quickly enough, we turn them into rillettes. The quality remains intact.’
The kitchen becomes the ally of the counter, just as the barrel extends the harvest. The fishmonger becomes chef, a custodian of flavour. Just as the winegrower prunes his vines, the fishmonger carves the flesh of a tuna. It’s all about transforming raw matter into taste.
Like the vine, the sea is subject to the rhythms of change.
‘When you go from a thousand people living around the Arcachon Basin in the 1970s to five thousand today, without the right infrastructure, pollution is bound to follow,’ Olivier laments. Too many boats, too many trawlers, not enough replenishment.
The verdict is stark: ‘In the Basin, there are practically no fish left.’ The small ports — Royan, Noirmoutier, Oléron — remain guardians of quality fishing. But there’s a limit to how much can be caught, and prices continue to rise.
The future? Perhaps less abundance, but a more thoughtful, more respectful way of consuming. As with wine, the era of ‘always more’ is coming to an end.
Recipe: Line-caught tuna tataki with turnip purée
From the mind of Chef Eymeric (La Bonne Mer), designed to converse with a Chablis wine.
Made with line-caught tuna from Saint-Jean-de-Luz, this tataki recalls the singularity of Chablis wines: their roots in the Kimmeridgian soil. Composed of marl layers and marine fossils dating back 155 million years, it imbues Chardonnay with saline tension and an iodised minerality that naturally prolong the call of the sea.
A composition by Mathieu Crosnier, Estate Director of Rieussec.
Paired with an R de Rieussec, this ceviche strikes a balance between acidity and spice, softened by the sweetness of mango. The dry white completes the pairing with freshness and bright citrus notes.
Both sea and vine remind us of a simple truth: so much lies beyond our control. The fisherman casts his nets at dawn, the winegrower prunes his vines in winter, both knowing the outcome is never entirely theirs. Fish grow scarce, seasons falter. Yet the work remains: precise, repeated, sustained. Perhaps that is their strength: to keep flavour alive, even when the future is uncertain.
主厨让·米歇尔·拉法基的传统风味根茎炖菜
提及“根茎”，拉菲罗斯柴尔德男爵酒业公司的厨房无疑是绕不开的话题。
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找回消耗的卡路里
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